


14-Inch Cock and a Few Hundred Himbos

by solarfemm



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 16:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19855579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarfemm/pseuds/solarfemm
Summary: There are some things in life, Steve muses as he stares down at his crotch, that nothing can prepare you for. Sure, becoming a super soldier was, at the time, the most wild thing he could think of, and sure, his tolerance for ridiculous, catastrophic and immeasurably weird situations has very much grown since then, but this? His dick suddenly growing six inches in length and another two in girth, just because he opened a box in a Hydra dug out that maybe he should have read the instructions on before he did? How was he to know it was literally magic that would make his cock grow huge? He couldn’t. That’s his excuse. There’s no fucking way he could have prepared himself for this situation.





	14-Inch Cock and a Few Hundred Himbos

There are some things in life, Steve muses as he stares down at his crotch, that nothing can prepare you for. Sure, becoming a super soldier was, at the time, the most wild thing he could think of, and sure, his tolerance for ridiculous, catastrophic and immeasurably weird situations has very much grown since then, but this? His dick suddenly growing six inches in length and another two in girth, just because he opened a box in a Hydra dug out that maybe he should have read the instructions on before he did? How was he to know it was literally magic that would make his cock grow huge? He couldn’t. That’s his excuse. There’s no fucking way he could have prepared himself for this situation.

He’s not proud of himself but he’s lightheaded enough from whatever drug was inside the wooden casket that he has to sit down for a minute while the battle rages above him. Also, his pants are ripped, and that would be embarrassing enough if his dick wasn’t giving a one-eye salute. So here he is, in Schwarzwald again, but this time he’s not concussed and bleeding out into a ditch while the rest of his squadron get themselves killed. Here he is, hoping no one comes looking for him now that the bad guys are subdued in whatever way is most subjectively convenient to their quartet at the time. Here he is, with the same massive problem he faced coming out of the Vita-Ray chamber 70 years ago, except worse, somehow, because Nat, Sam and Bucky will never, _ever_ let him live this down. The best he can hope for is that they forget he’s here and maybe think he died and not come looking for him. If only he could be so lucky.

“Steve?”

Sam’s voice is far away enough that he’s not directly above the dug out and in immediate danger of seeing Steve like this, so Steve calls back. “Yeah, I’m here. Got a bit of a situation, though.”

“Shit, where are you? I’m coming.” Steve hears the whir of Redwing’s motor fly above him and he squats down further into the hole.

“I’m fine, Sam. Really. Meet you guys back at base in a couple hours.”

Sam doesn’t sound convinced, but Steve knowns he trusts him with his life. “If you’re sure, Cap.”

He listens to Nat and Sam banter as they leave, Nat’s laughter at Sam’s jokes ringing through the dense crop of trees until it disappears, but then he’s still left with the problem of his monster cock and how excruciatingly hard he is. If he touches himself now, he might actually come so hard he dies. But, well—the problem’s not going away on its own. He tosses the box aside and starts to work on what’s left of his pants, pulling his dick out and exposing the rest of it to the frigid air. At the first touch, he shudders, gripping the base to stop from coming so soon. He has no idea what’s going to happen, whether it’ll be as pleasurable as the first time he jacked off with his new body, or if it’ll be tainted by whatever poison Hydra put in that box. 

As he closes his eyes and starts to stroke, a voice calls out to him from above the fox hole. 

“Need a hand with that?”

Steve’s eyes snap open to see Bucky leaning over and staring straight at Steve with a mixture of delight and feral desire that has Steve in danger of coming right there. No, he cannot deal with this now. Just because they’ve been on-again-off-again fuckbuddies-slash-soulmates-slash-boyfriends who don’t acknowledge that they’re dating-slash-basically strangers to each other, and just because sometimes they use each other to get off like it’s a hazard of the job, but other times spoon and kiss for hours and learn the topography of each other’s bodies, each vein a ley line, each heartbeat an earthquake, each time getting closer and closer to the people they want to be, does not mean he’s ready for Bucky, recently brainwashed and set free Bucky with more issues that Steve, Nat and Sam put together, to see him like this.

“Nope.”

Bucky’s grin grows wider. “Sure looks like you could use some help.”

Steve gritts his teeth and keeps his grip tight. To him, Bucky is equal parts the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, the actual love of his life who’s never done anything wrong, ever, and also the hottest guy he’s ever had the fortune to bed. It’s really hard not to encourage him to get down into the mud with Steve and touch him where he needs to be touched.

“Okay, Buck. Go on. Make fun of me. I’m ready to hear it.”

“I was actually going to offer—you know what? Fuck it.”

He jumps into the dug out with both power and grace and lands next to Steve with a huff. He takes one look at him and his eyes grow wide with amazement and shock. “What the fuck happened to you, pal?”

Steve kicks the box while trying to hide himself with his hands. It doesn’t work. Bucky is still staring. “Absolutely no idea. I’m sure it was designed to kill whoever opened up, but it probably just interacted with the serum in a way that was designed to kill me by embarrassing me to death.”

“Oh, honey,” Bucky says, biting his lip and ever so carefully pulling Steve’s hands away, as if he’s a frightened animal. Steve isn’t frightened of Bucky; he doesn’t need to be coddled, he needs a strong hand to reign him in, and that’s always been Bucky’s job; in all the lives and ways they’ve known each other, it’s always been him. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

With Bucky staring at his dick like he wants to devour it whole and the things Steve wants to do to him in return, he doesn’t actually agree with Bucky on that. 

“Oh, god,” Bucky groans at the sight of Steve’s cock, rock hard and flushed with blood. “Please, Steve, _please_ let me suck you. I’ll do your laundry for a week. I’ll teach you all my knife tricks. I’ll starting talking to Sam, I’ll be nice to Natalia, I promise, just please, anything.”

Steve didn’t register anything past “let me suck you” and he hits his head so hard on the wall that dirt crumbles onto them. And because he’s weak and masochistic, because he can’t say no to Bucky even if wanted to try, he says yes, yes you can, please, yes, and when Bucky takes Steve into his mouth, it’s the best thing Steve’s ever felt, tight wet heat, electricity coursing through where Bucky’s lips touch him and all over, body lighting up like a Christmas tree. 

Bucky moans around his cock, sinking as far as he can on Steve’s ridiculously sized whale dick and that’s all it takes for Steve to come. He’s in the middle of apologising profusely as Bucky gags, pulls off, and starts coughing.

“Give a guy a little warning next time.” He wipes come off his chin and spits the rest into the dirt, and Steve is still turned on; he didn’t even grow flaccid—his dick is still hard and aching, wet from his own come and Bucky’s mouth, and he thinks he could probably come untouched, maybe, just at the _thought_ of Bucky touching him again. “Fuck, are you still hard?”

“Seems that way,” Steve says, trying desperately to not let his voice crack. He can feel how hot his face is, how red he is from his forehead to his chest, and he thinks he might pass out from the strain of keeping himself together. 

He doesn’t have to look at Bucky, as is, in fact, purposely not looking at Bucky, to know he’s smirking, has his patented “I’m up for a good time, are you?” look on his face that has always led to good things when Steve hasn’t ruined them by getting clocked in the face or shot. “I’m happy to help out, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t even know how long this is going to last,” Steve says, sighing because this is his life now. His dick could give Seabiscuit a run for his money and the love of his life wants to fuck him now more than ever. “Buck, seriously, you don’t have to. I know we’re not—” He makes a gesture that tries to encompass whatever they aren’t that he wants them to be. “—but please don’t feel obligated to help just because I got myself into this mess.” If it were any other kind of situation, Steve would rely on Bucky to have his six, but this is different. It’s not that Steve’s a prude, it’s just that things get a lot more complicated when sex is involved. 

Bucky makes a noise of frustration. “Are you kidding me? All these years and you still have a martyr complex as colossal as Ozymandias himself. If you don’t want me to, that’s fine, I won’t force you, but it seems like you’re in a lot of pain and we need to get that sorted out. I get if you don’t want me to do it, but I don’t think Sam or Nat are up for it, so if you want to just crank it out for a few hours in the mud and cold until you pass out from exhaustion, then I’ll leave you to it.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. It’s too much to ask Bucky to do this for him, even though most of the time when they’re together it’s to satiate a need, as much as Steve wants otherwise; well, he has a pretty big need right now, and Bucky’s offering him an out. It isn’t until Bucky sighs and moves to stand that Steve reaches out to him, like a lifeline, like the last boat on the Titanic, and grasps his arm.

“Wait.”

Bucky’s expression has shifted from outright hunger to concern, taking Steve’s hand in his own, brushing Steve’s hair back from his face, and god, there’s nothing Steve wouldn’t do for him. It’s awful the way he loves Bucky; this horrible, wrenching pain in his chest that’s going to continue carving up his insides for the rest of his life until there’s nothing left, and it’s always been this way, from when he was 16 years old and first realised there was nothing he could to stop loving Bucky, to now, closing his eyes against the brush of his fingers. It’s too much. Steve doesn’t think he’ll survive this. Bucky is going to kill him, one way or another.

“Steve,” Bucky says, a murmur that echoes the susurrus of the wind through the trees. “Let me take care of you.”

Steve nods, and Bucky thumbs over his cheekbone, pulls him into a soft, sweet kiss that makes Steve ache for something he’s already getting, and for all the things he’s not. How this day turned from mortifying and deeply regrettable to one of the hardest things Steve’s ever been through is beyond him. He’s such a sap. He knows this; Sam and Nat make fun of him for it all the time whenever Bucky leaves the room, but Bucky never does. He never makes Steve feel inferior, or stupid, or like he doesn’t matter. He never treats Steve as the shield, the icon. He’s always treated Steve like a person, and that’s why Steve can’t give him up. Bucky said to him once, “If you didn’t have me, there’s no one in the world that would understand you,” and he’s right. 

When Bucky takes him in hand again, it feels so good that Steve’s whole body shudders just from the contact. Bucky starts to stroke him, gentle, careful, still kissing him, and it’s not a minute later that Steve comes again, spilling onto his stealth suit and Bucky’s hand.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Bucky croons, milking every last drop from him, and, once he’s done, he brings his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean. Steve must make a pained face that Bucky interprets as disgusted because he laughs, says, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. You just taste really good, is all,” and Steve kisses him just for that. He can taste himself, and it’s not unpleasant coming from Bucky’s mouth, but it’s not the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

Surprisingly, he’s not still hard again. Although the serum keeps his dick occupied, he does have at least a 10-15 minute refractory period normally, but this time whatever was in the box seems to have not gotten the memo. When Steve pulls away, Bucky’s watching him—not looking at his dick, but at his face, really looking at him, seeing him, in a way that no one else does. The way Bucky looks at him is with years and years of history so rich that no one else can understand it, nor does Steve want them to—it’s just for them. So many people have tried to get to the heart of their relationship, analyse and piece it together like it’s a puzzle that can be solved with enough scrutiny, but they’ll never get it. Whatever Steve and Bucky’s relationship is, it’s just for them. 

Steve knows how to read a moment, but he’s always unsure with Bucky and whether he’ll respond positively to Steve’s advances. It’s a hit or miss scenario each time, so Steve’s learned to be patient and let Bucky make the first move, and when Bucky kisses him again Steve puts everything into it, fingers around the back of Bucky’s neck to keep him close, licking into his mouth in a way that Sam finds disgusting when he’s had the misfortune to walk in on them, and Nat thinks is fine but better them than her. It’s messy and gross because Steve doesn’t have the mental capacity for anything delicate when his cock starts to harden again, and Bucky kisses back just as fervently.

Steve makes a pained knows as his cock grows fully hard and Bucky breaks off to look down at him. “Are you going to last this time?”

“Doubt it,” Steve says, but it isn’t a reason for him not to try. “I can sort myself out, it’s okay.”

“As much as I love watching you touch yourself, making you come over and over again is a dream come true, so please stop teasing me and let me fuck your brains out.”

Steve swallows whatever he could possibly say to that. He nods, and Bucky’s expression turns feral again. “Yeah, okay. Okay.”

Bucky reaches into a pocket on his belt and pulls out a small bottle of lube; it’s one of the things he’s been carrying around with him for two purposes: to fix his arm when it gets soaked in blood, muk and gunk, and for this. It’s not unsual for them to go at it after a battle, in abandoned hotels, back alleyways, hideouts, and once in a Hydra complex they blew up afterwards, so it’s only practical they’re prepared. 

Bucky starts working on his pants, chucking his belt aside and unzipping them, pulling Steve onto his knees behind him and pressing the lube into his hands. Steve’s going to come just at the sight of Bucky on his hands and knees, ass sticking out, looking over his shoulder with impatience written all over his expression. 

“Well? You gonna fuck me or what?”

As soon as Steve starts slicking up his dick, he comes again, barely touching himself but so turned on, as he always is, at the thought of having Bucky like this. “Okay, give me a minute.” Bucky throws his head back and laughs loud enough that it echoes through the forest, and Steve shushes him. “Come on, I need to concentrate.”

“All right, all right.”

While Steve’s waiting to get hard again, he slicks up his fingers and sliding them into Bucky, who moans low and harsh in the still air as he pushes himself back onto them, rasps, “Oh my _god_ , like that,” and, yeah, Steve’s hard again. He pulls his fingers out gently and lines up, gripping the base of his cock gingerly as he slides in to Bucky’s tight, wet heat, stopping halfway. His dick is huge. Usually Bucky can take all of him, but Steve really doesn’t want to hurt him, and how much is too much, anyway, when your cock is literally 14 inches long? If he ends up rupturing Bucky’s spleen or something, he’s going to have a hard time explaining that to Nat and Sam. 

Bucky is making these little whimpering sounds before Steve has even done anything, saying _fuck_ under his breath over and over, and Steve is trying really, really trying not to come. It’s inevitable though. As soon as Bucky arches his back and says, “If your cock was any thicker it’d break me in half,” and then, in the same breath, “Fuck me, Steve, before I die of old age,” Steve starts to move. Bucky is so tight around him, and more than anything comfortable. Steve’s spent more time inside Bucky than anyone else in the world, and, as hard as it is to admit to himself let alone anyone else, Bucky is the only person he wants to fuck. 

It’s fine now, when there are limited options, but what happens when they wipe out every Hydra compound and have nothing else to do but live like regular joes? What if they go back to New York, and they get Bucky the help he needs, and Steve the help he needs, and Bucky finds he doesn’t want Steve anymore? What if he has better options than fucking in a forest full of dead bodies with the nearest person who isn’t scared of him? How is Steve going to cope with that, knowing that Bucky is going to find someone else, but Steve won’t ever find anyone like Bucky? He’s barely coping now. He stops moving just to let Bucky slide back onto him as far as he can until he freezes, moaning louder this time, swearing loud enough to scare the crows in the trees and dropping onto his forearms with a shudder.

“There, _there_ , fuckin’—like that, that spot—” He’s barely getting the words out, but manages to convey enough encouragement for Steve to thrust forward, disappearing most of the way into Bucky who falls face-first into the mud.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to—” Steve says, before Bucky tells him to “fucking shut it, Steve, I swear to god if you stop I’ll never talk to you again, just keep going, fuck,” so Steve does what he’s told, but only for Bucky. No one else has ever given him a reason to do what they say.

Steve thrusts again with a grip on his waist, drawing more moans out of him, falling deeper and deeper into the madness of what they do to each other. He comes again, pulling out carefully just to watch his come drip out of Bucky, and, before he can protest, Steve sits back, pulls Bucky towards him, and starts to lick into him. The sounds Steve draws out are so delicious and vibrate through his whole body. He pushes past the ring of muscle, loose already from Steve fucking him, while Bucky swears loud enough to wake the dead around them, loud enough that Sam and Nat can probably hear them from base camp a mile over. 

He kisses whatever skin of Bucky’s is showing, his cheeks, thighs, the small of his back, licking up his own come that’s starting to crust, crowding over him to brush his hair away and bite the skin at the back of his neck. “Look at me,” he says, and Bucky turns his head, eyes wide and wet with tears. “Are you okay?”

Bucky shakes his head and laughs. “God, you have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

An unspoken answer hangs in the air between them, so close Steve could grab it if he reached, if he said, _No, I don’t, tell me_ , if Bucky would stop being so cryptic for once, would start letting people in instead of building up walls Steve has to pick apart one brick at a time, only for there to be another wall behind it. 

Bucky collapses into the dirt and pulls Steve down with him. It’s not exactly comfortable, and Steve is already growing hard again, fucking again, jesus christ, but it’s comfortable enough, half dressed and worn out. They make it work.


End file.
